


Quiet Me

by taranoire



Series: FenHawke Drabbles [3]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taranoire/pseuds/taranoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>number 3: one character trying to calm another down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet Me

**Author's Note:**

> warning for abuse / alcoholism.

Hawke hasn’t come to him tonight, which is not in itself strange, but Fenris knows the date and he isn’t a fool. He mentally prepares himself for whatever he might find, lets himself into the Amell Estate, and knocks on the man’s bedroom door twice (it is a polite gesture one reserves for boundaries that are respected).

There is no response, but he enters anyway. 

The room is dark, smokey, acrid with the scent of booze. He knows this fever. He’s lived it, and because of that, maybe this is his fault. Maybe his habits have rubbed off on the man. Maybe it runs in the Hawke blood; he will never know. Garrett’s father is a mystery to him. 

At first, he thinks the man lying on the floor and leaning against the bed is asleep. But Hawke is awake. He sees him.

"My mother is dead," Hawke says, face dark and unwashed. 

"She has been dead for two years," Fenris responds gently, going to him. He sees an empty bottle on the floor, and bends to pick it up, examining it. Smelling the remnants. He scowls. Whiskey. "How long have you been here in your misery?" 

Hawke’s head lolls on his shoulders. “Since this morning, I reckon…” 

"You have not even opened the curtains." 

"Yes, and I’d appreciate it staying that way.” 

"The sun has long since set," Fenris says, patient despite his growing concern. "You need fresh air." 

Garrett—is not always like this. No. Sometimes he will not even drink socially. Sometimes he will hold him close and breathe him in and promise it will get better. Fenris knows a lie when he sees it; he’s told much of the same. Not all demons are of the Fade. Not all monsters lurk in shadow. 

Fenris turns away, running his fingers through his hair. He’s shaky and a little overwhelmed, can’t keep doing this. He can’t—handle it. Can’t take care of him. Can barely take care of himself. How long will this go on? How long until Hawke fades, wraith-like, into that place of no return? 

I need you, he thinks. 

"Sit with me?" 

"No," Fenris says, a little harsher than intended. "I’m disappointed in you." 

Hawke swallows hard, and his eyes are damp and dark again. Damn him. Damn this. Fenris thinks he might actually apologize, but instead, Hawke hesitates until that thought is too far gone in the dregs. “Please don’t leave.” 

Fenris nearly breaks, but he holds himself together physically and emotionally until that violent, desperate urge to cry dies. He has no memory of shedding tears. It would be ridiculous to start now. 

He kneels down beside him. There must be something fragile about his expression because Hawke reaches up to touch his face, and to his own chagrin, he does not flinch or draw away, but leans into him, into his touch. He is so dependent upon him in the worst way, needy and desperate to be loved. 

"Why did you come here?" Hawke asks. 

"I would not abandon you in any battle. Least of all this one." 

"I’ve hurt you." 

"I’ve been hurt before." 

"And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it?" Hawke grimaces and shakes his head, then withdraws from him completely. Fenris feels cold. "Maybe…it would be better, then, if I just hurt you so deep and so badly you would finally run from me. You would be better off."

Hawke takes a drink straight from some bottle or other. “Everything I touch dies, my love. My father, my mother, sister, brother—my friends. It is only a matter of time and torment before I’m cradling you and watching you bleed out. I cannot—I simply cannot cope with that, I cannot even begin to imagine my sanity surviving that…” 

"Hawke…" Fenris reaches for him, or perhaps for the bottle, without thinking, and this time he does flinch as the man violently shoves him aside. 

"Do not touch me," Hawke snaps, voice tight with tears. "Maker, if you look at me I just know that it’s going to take you too; this darkness that follows me, everywhere I turn it’s there and I cannot lose you to it, darling, I will not allow it—” 

"I refuse to die on the account of shadows," Fenris interjects. 

"—and when you look at me, sometimes, I fear that I might be the one that hurts you in the end. If I had to lose you, I’d rather it be me, my doing, because at least then I’d have some small comfort in knowing it was not entirely out of my hands—" 

He is beginning to frighten him. “Garrett, you need to calm down.” 

Fenris gets to his feet, not intending to leave, but trying to get out of his personal space and allow him room to breathe. Hawke does not interpret it this way. The man panics and clamors for him, desperate, not wanting to be alone, not with this pain, and Fenris chokes as he is slammed hard into the wall. 

He just—freezes. Looks down and away, no eye contact, no breathing, still and quiet. 

"What did I do, Fenris?" Hawke demands of him, shaking him hard, tears running down his face. "What the hell did I do that every single person I have ever loved—good, noble people, people that have suffered where I have not—fall before my waking eyes? What manner of sin have I committed that I cannot sleep for fear of losing you? This—I cannot—oh, help me—” 

He pulls him close, sobbing into his shoulder, into his hair, shaking as he holds him as if terrified he will melt away into the corpse that haunts his nightmares. Fenris feels wounded and lightheaded and his heart is beating fast in his ears but dimly he’s aware of himself wrapping his arms around Hawke in turn, aware of whispering soothing things that fade quiet and ethereal around them. 

"I’m so sorry," Hawke cries. "I’m so sorry…" 

Fenris nods, closes his eyes, and tries not to disappear.


End file.
